The Path We Took
by AleXym
Summary: Hailee and Harry Potter are very special twins, even if they don't know it. What happens when their lives take a turn and they find themselves in the middle of a decade long conflict? Will they bow down and accept everything? No, no they won't. Find how a bond between sibling fares in the face of conflict. Completely AU MC 1: Harry James Potter MC 2: Hailee Lily Potter
1. C1: What Really Happened That Night

The idea to write this story came from my sister. She passed away recently, and she left me this prologue and a few other chapters of this story. She used to talk about how she wanted to be a writer, so with her in mind, I have decided to give it a try.

You will notice that this story is intended to be long, and although my sister never said how long it would be, I am going to try to make justice to that wish.

You will also notice that the main relationship in the fic is the relationship Harry has with his sister, much like the relationship I had with mine. That will be the focus of the story to a certain extent.

The path that the main characters are going to take along the journey is not something for everyone, and it is not meant to be. If you like a hero Harry, a morally reprehensible story like this one is not for you.

The prologue and the first few chapters were written by my sister. I WILL NOT be changing them. I will, however, modify, when possible, the format, grammar or any of those things that make a fic more readable. I may add to them, but I will not take away from them, even if they are sloppy, which while I may be biased, I don't think they are.

_Alex… Je t'aime… c'est pour vous._

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Harry Potter nor any part of its associated universe. They belong to JKR. I do not profit from this writing. Any and all reviews are welcome.

-OoOoOoOoOoOoO-

**Prologue**

With a sudden crack, three figures stood triumphantly in front of a house. The tallest man of the three walked to the edge of what appeared as a force field a few feet from the front door. He had a wooden stick of some sort in his hand, and with it started poking the force field, causing ripples to send through it. He had a clear objective, and it took less than ten seconds to achieve it. The field came crashing down with a loud swoosh, and he was free to walk to the house. As he approached, a wave of the stick and the door came flying into the house.

A jet-black messy-haired man stood at the bottom of the stairs leading up to the second floor, to the left of the entrance. The intruder laughed at him, with a horrific sound reminiscent of a ragged hissing of gas escaping a pressurized tank. The man at the bottom of the stairs had another wooden stick in his right hand, and when he shouted something while waving his stick, six flashes of light left the stick aiming at the intruder. Casually, almost lazily, the stick of the intruder deflected every single one of the flashes and, faster than any eye could catch, made an upwards motion just as the last flash hit a window behind the intruder. The man at the bottom of the stairs had attempted to move, but the wave of invisible energy caught him nonetheless, throwing him against the corner of the wall. The intruder drew closer and, laughing again, made a slashing movement with his stick, aiming at the other guy's neck. There had passed just a few seconds and it was already over, the red had already stopped flowing when the intruder reached the top of the stairs.

Moving to the room at the end of the corridor, and blasting the locked door with yet another wave of his stick, he saw a lingering light in the air. He also saw a redheaded woman with piercing green eyes turning around to see him as he entered the room. The woman started to beg and plead and cry, not for her life, but of the two little creatures standing inside a crib in the corner of the room. The man felt annoyed beyond measure, he had an objective to accomplish tonight, and nothing was going to stand in his way, he had already forgotten about the lingering light which had disappeared in the few seconds the woman had caught his attention. He issued a warning. The woman didn't move. He was not going to warn her again. He laughed at the stupidity of the woman as his stick made another slashing movement. His annoyance shone through and the cut was more powerful than he intended. He thought it fitting for the head of the woman who had annoyed him so much to be rolling around the room, her hair even redder than before.

The two children, while too young to understand what was transpiring, instinctively knew something wasn't right. The girl had begun whimpering at the sight of the tall man in the room, and the boy stood in front of his sister, arms around his back in a protective manner, staring wide-eyed at his mother's head, which had come to rest mere inches from the bars of the crib and, as it had bounced on the floor, had sprayed her son and daughter of the same red the covered the rest of the room and much of the sheets of the crib. The man thought he'd had more than enough distractions already and stopped laughing, he had an objective to accomplish. He stepped over the body of the woman and approached the edge of the crib, he pointed the stick to the children, and again with a burst of maniacal laughter pronounced two very distinctive words. The children recoiled to the back of the crib and there was a flash of blinding green light, and a vast, rushing, invisible something flew towards the infants.

The flash then hit the boy on the right side of his forehead, launched him against the back of the crib to the left of his sister, and the flash was expelled from the boy's forehead bouncing off of him much to the tall man's surprise, instantly it hit the girl on the left side of her forehead and similarly bounced off. This time though, as the girl crashed into the mattress of the crib, the flash came rushing back towards the tall man who had produced it. The green flash had left the boy and girl with wounded foreheads and the red coming from the children's lighting shaped wounds mixed with the already stained sheets of the crib, as the boy and girl experienced the worst pain they had felt in their short lives. Still, it didn't even come close to the excruciating pain that the intruder found himself in, as the flash of light hit him squarely on his chest. The flash consumed him, and only the dark and long robes the man was wearing were left behind, as the essence of the man was banished from this plane of existence, causing a major explosion in the room. As the robes hit the red-stained floor, the children finally lost consciousness, drifting into a deep slumber and not noticing the black, cloudy mist that had shot from the point where the man had stood and, as if it were a serpent, slithered its way inside the wounded forehead of one of the children.

Outside, the two men standing in the sidewalk of the deserted street felt something they had never experienced before, their left arms suddenly felt numb and their skin burned the long sleeves of the robes they were wearing. The loud explosion inside the house didn't do anything to calm their now incredibly fast-growing nervousness. The man on the left let out a whimper of surprise and turned to the other man, noticing exactly the same was happening to him. Reaching the same conclusion at once, both men sprinted towards the house, through the blasted doors, and up the stairs dodging the rubble of the now destroyed ceiling of the room in which the earlier carnage had taken place. All the red stopped both men on their tracks, and they both froze in the threshold of the room, albeit for different reasons. The tall and greasy-haired man couldn't keep his eyes of the severed head of the woman, while the short rat-faced man was staring with incredible fear at the robes that once belonged to the intruder. Neither of them noticed the shallow breathing children in their crib, and even if they had, they were covered I so much red that men would've thought they were dead. The short rat-faced man reached down to collect the stick of the intruder and with a loud crack, he wasn't there anymore. The tall greasy-haired man reached down to pick up a lock of red-stained hair and with another crack, he wasn't there anymore.

Two or three hours later, a very tall and white-haired man with a long, also white beard, appeared on the same spot the intruder had, but without any sound. The man walked inside the house, taking in every detail of the gruesome scene he found. Contrary to the last men who'd been in the house, he did notice the two toddlers inside the red-stained crib. He waved yet another stick over the kids and suddenly there were now four kids, two were kind of levitating in the air and two on the red-stained crib. The ones in the crib were not breathing. After putting his stick away in his robes, he picked the two toddlers from the air in his hands and with a soft 'pop', he wasn't there anymore.


	2. C2: Revenge?

**Revenge?**

Petunia Dursley was a bitter woman. She was always in a foul mood. She was a narcissist that didn't care for other people. The circumstances of her childhood, when she was still Petunia Evans, were never acceptable for her.  
For many, she didn't seem capable of love, so when she got married to an up and coming owner of a drilling company, people wondered why. Vernon Dursley was a greedy, envious, ambitious little fat man, looking for the trophy wife a man of his caliber needed. That doesn't mean he doesn't go to some very questionable 'business trips' with his plethora of secretaries. He practically bought his way into Petunia's life. She didn't care. The only son they had produced was the only reason they acted as wife and husband to the outside world, and if anybody knows the ways of the narcissistic behavior, they soon would realize that Dudley Dursley was "The Golden Boy" of the household.

That only started though, when Petunia had found in her doorstep two little packages of rags. At first, she thought someone had tried to throw some toilet paper over her house and failed miserably, it was, in fact, the morning after Hallowe'en, and those American trends were picking up in Britain too. Then she took a closer look at the rags and noticed they were wrapping something. They were babies! When she picked one of them up while looking up and down the street for something or someone, an envelope appeared out of nowhere. This had Petunia's guard up in milliseconds, she had seen some similar thing in her childhood with "The Bitch", the 'oh so special' sister of hers.  
When she snatched the envelope out of the air and took the babies inside out of fear for what the neighbors would say, she was already fuming. Things only got worse when she read the letter contained in the envelope. She couldn't believe it!

That was the moment one of the babies decided to wake up, wailing and screaming just like babies do, and all her terrible fears were confirmed. As both babies were identical, it was hard not to assume that they shared the eyes that had been boring into Petunia's soul from the little girl that was in her hands. Those electric green eyes. The same green eyes "The Bitch" had. Another pair of green eyes the found their way onto Petunia from the living room couch she had left the boy, as the second baby was woken up by the cries of his sister, he didn't cry though. Petunia had sworn never to see those eyes again. She had loathed them, and everything they represented. But, here they were again, imposed into her by one of those freaks of which "The Bitch" was part of. The worst part is that she recognized the name of the remittent of the letter: Albus _Fucking_ Dumbledore.

Deep down she knew what she had to do, or rather what she couldn't do, she couldn't just rid herself of these babies to an orphanage or something, she even considered just leaving them where she had found them and forgetting about the whole ordeal. She knew she would be dead if she tried though; the letter had made it quite clear, she had to take in these kids, otherwise, she might find herself forced to in one way or another, and she most certainly preferred to do it voluntarily, or at least of her volition. Two more mouths to feed. Not that they didn't have the money, but now she just knew that all of the money she would rather spend on herself was going to be wasted on these two freaks. If the letter was correct - and she assumed it was - then these babies were the same as "The Bitch": freaks of nature, capable of doing things normal people could only dream of, and they were just over one year old. That would mean her son was older than these freaks, by two years no less, and he still would be eclipsed by them. She would not let that happen. She wouldn't. SHE WOULDN'T!

Then, a realization hit her. The letter didn't mention anything else about their upbringing. She could do whatever the hell she pleased with them. As stated, the moment they entered the house, the boy and the girl were essentially hers. A wide and ferocious grin appeared in Petunia's face. She had a husband who didn't like kids. She had an older son than these two freaks. She could finally, finally after so long get her revenge. HER REVENGE! She laughed at the thought of her now-dead sister watching how she was going to treat her 'oh so precious' little freaks. She would come up with some way of not spending a single penny on the freaks. She could even have the two of them cleaning and cooking for her in a few years! For now, it was time to shut these freaks the fuck up and convince her husband of this newfound cheap labor force for their household.

She knew she had her husband convinced when she mentioned all the money they would save if they could use the freaks as their cooks and cleaners. The thought occurred to Vernon that since Dudley was older, all his old clothes could be put to good use for the freaks, he refused to spend much for his son, much less for those two freaks. She did mention that they needn't have to endure the freaks all their lives, only until they were both seventeen. And even then, when they turned eleven the would also spend most of the year in that same goddamned place "The Bitch" used to go. That only sweetened the deal for the Dursleys. After some much-needed shopping for Petunia's self-congratulations of her revenge plans, she started 'caring', for her nephew and niece.

-OoOoOoOoOoOoO-

Harry woke up at the same hour he had woken up for the last four years. He was six now and he had had the same routine for as long as he could remember. He went to the tiny bathroom, freshened up a little, then came back to the room he shared with his sister. He walked two steps in the tiny room and sat in front of his sister. His twin sister. His beloved twin sister. The only person in his life. He woke her up with a kiss on her cheek and another to her forehead.  
"HEY_lee... _wake up..." The little wordplay had become part of his morning routine.

Hailee woke up to the same sight she had woken up for the last four years. She was also six and with her brother, they had been working ever since they could learn to follow basic instructions. She woke up with him looking down at her, sitting on the edge of their little bed. Her twin brother. Her beloved twin brother. The only person in her life. She smiled when she felt his lips on her forehead.  
"Good morning. How did you sleep?" said Harry after backing away a bit.  
"Argh… wha?… oh… Good morning! The same as you Harry…" she yawned "… I slept with my eyes closed." Harry rolled his eyes at her answer and hugged her up to him, also part of their routine.  
"Remember what day it is. We better get going," he reminded her when she closed her eyes against his chest.  
"Yeah, you're right. Our beautiful cousin's birthday," they both laughed at her remark.

They quickly got dressed, the same baggy clothes and the huge trousers, hand-me-downs from their cousin. Speaking of, today was said cousin's birthday, which meant that they would have double the work and half the food. It was five-thirty in the morning and they left the room they slept in and walked right into the kitchen. The room only consisted of a bed and a few drawers for their shared clothes, as well as a tiny nightstand, big enough to fit an alarm clock set every day at five-thirty in the morning. It connected directly with the kitchen and was located on the ground floor of the mansion. The kitchen had two connections, to the living room and the dining room. The living room connected to the study and the stairs to the upper bedrooms. They were not allowed to go upstairs if there were people in the house. They only could go to the rooms upstairs to clean them. There were four rooms on the second floor with two bathrooms, on the third floor there were only two rooms with only one bathroom. On the third floor slept Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia, and she had a single bedroom dedicated to her clothes, shoes, bags, makeup, and some other things. Of the four rooms on the second floor, three belonged to Dudley, one was where he slept, the second one was where he kept all his toys and the third room was where he would play all his video games, computer games, and movies. The fourth room was a guest room, usually occupied by Aunt Marge when she came to visit with all her dogs. Those times, that room would become a nightmare to clean between the dog trying to bite you and all the shit they left behind.

Hailee rapidly set out with the kitchen and started the breakfast feast for the celebration that was going to happen later in the day. Three dozen pancakes, fifteen scrambled eggs, six cups of coffee, and more bacon than would be healthy for any normal person. Since several people were staying over the previous night, including Aunt Marge, this would take a few hours to finish. Harry, on the other hand, started cleaning the mess left by their Uncle Vernon the night before. As always, he had been drinking since three in the afternoon of yesterday. Uncle Vernon's study was the epitome of opulence for any normal person. He spends a lot of time in the study, so it was the best-decorated room in the mansion. Right now though, it looked like a monkey had been left loose and trashed the place, it was Harry's mission to fix that, or to try at least.

As the day went by things were looking great, the afternoon came, and after Dudley had opened his thirty-six presents - two more than last year - the guests started to leave the house, which meant they could now join at the table for their first meal of the day. Once they got to the table, it was already quarter past five in the afternoon, and Uncle Vernon left the table as they approached, almost spitting in their faces. Hailee, as always, had her hand on Harry's and they sat quietly and started eating the few leftovers of the lunch and breakfast they had prepared themselves. Dudley went upstairs to enjoy his new presents, and it would have been a relief, were it not because in turn, this left Aunt Petunia and Aunt Marge drinking their afternoon tea alone with them, with no one to draw their attention it was inevitable…

"So, Petunia dear, when are you going to buy another table?" Marge said with a sly grin.  
Petunia hadn't caught up to what she was saying, so she asked "Pardon me? What are you implying Marge? That this century-old mahogany isn't good enough?"  
"Oh, please Petunia, that is exactly my point! This table is just way too good for this tramp and her lazy brother! You need to get something more around their level."

_'For some reason, Marge has always hated Hailee, and she always calls her so many awful names,' _thought Harry. Hailee was just squeezing the life out of Harry's hand under the same mahogany table, trying not to react. They both didn't look up and they just started eating their scraps faster.

"But dear Marge, how could I expect to find something so horrid enough to be at the level of those godforsaken freaks?" Said Petunia with a horrible grin, finally catching onto Marge's game. Now it was Harry who was squeezing the life out of his sibling's hand, his instinct had always been to protect his sister, even if she could very well do that on her own, most of the time.

Marge finished slurping her tea, and now with a very wide and cruel smile jabbed another comment at them. "Besides Petunia, even if you could find something suitable to the style of these leaches, it would still be worth some money," her grin increased in intensity, "and you could never justify wasting money on a little whore!"

_'That is it!'_ He thought. "My sister is not a WHORE!" Harry spat. He had stood up so violently, the chair he had been sitting on flew to the back and stammered onto the floor. The grins in both Aunts' faces disappeared and scowls replaced the smiling faces. That was when the door of the study blasted open and a half-drunk and furious Vernon Dursley walked into the dining area. He had heard the ruckus and came to investigate. He saw Harry standing up in the table and Petunia and Marge scowling at him.

He didn't ask for context as in his mind, everything was the freaks' fault. Vernon walked up to him, grabbed his hair, and slammed his head into the table twice. Harry couldn't take the hit and the six-year-old boy soon found himself regaining consciousness a few seconds later with his sister knelt beside him. She had tears running down her cheeks and a horrifically reddened handmark on her cheek. Harry felt the blood in his forehead and reached up a hand to feel it, it was a big opening from his left eyebrow to his hairline.

Vernon picked both of them up and dragged them towards the kitchen, there, he threw them to the floor and kicked each of them on their ribs. Harry passed out again, so he didn't listen to the yelling and howling his uncle spewed for the next few minutes. Later that night Hailee would tell him of the consequences of their actions.

_'Fuck! And the day had been going so well_,' Harry thought with regret. Instead, that day marked a change in their lives. Dudley's eighth birthday marked the beginning of the beatings. And there were many of them. Harry took most, just because he couldn't bear the thought of Hailee being hurt again because of him. Hailee didn't agree to that in the slightest. She thought that they both should share the hurt equally but, after the second time of Vernon knocking her out cold with just one punch, she was forced to admit that Harry at the very least didn't have as high a risk of dying from Vernon's outbursts.

Hailee never blamed Harry, but Harry did blame himself. Constantly. Although both had seen it coming, Harry could never forget the fact that he was the catalyst for the situation. Brother and sister tried their damndest to reduce the chances of they getting 'disciplined' as Vernon called it, but sometimes there was just no escape.

The one silver lining of the situation, (or as Hailee liked to call it, the 'Emerald Lining', for their eyes), was that the relationship between them became incredibly strong. If they were already close before their daily dose of 'discipline', then after it began they grew even closer. It was almost as if they shared more than blood, it was as if they shared their minds and souls. They knew what the other was thinking and feeling with just one look, they drew comfort in each other, as only themselves knew how they wanted to be treated. The nights were special to both of them. Since they had always shared a bed, shirts, shoes, trousers, even their toothbrush was shared, the moment they started sharing dreams at night came as naturally to both of them as anything else. They slept cuddling each other, holding on for dear life. They were so in sync with each other, they actually went to sleep and woke up at the exact same time. They both had no way of knowing that what they had was anything out of the ordinary.

-OoOoOoOoOoOoO-

Things in school were better but not by much. From the beginning, Dudley was encouraged by his parents to mess with the twins. This came from destroying their homework, hiding their things, getting them in trouble, and beating them up with his group of friends who were two years older than the twins. Most of the time, Harry could only watch helplessly as Dudley and his gang beat the crap out of her sister. Dudley preferred the softer target, and he knew that Harry could do nothing about it, which made things even more satisfying to him by making Harry watch as he was held down by one of his group's members.

The only beatings Harry took willingly were those Vernon gave him in response to Harry defending Hailee from Dudley.

Harry and Hailee knew this situation wouldn't change for as long as they lived in that house. They thought about many ways to escape the living hell they found themselves in, but just couldn't be certain that any of them would work. They had tried talking in school with authorities when the beatings started, but Vernon's reputation as the proud owner of one of the biggest oil extracting companies in Britain meant that all their plans were squashed by a single comment from their Uncle to the staff that they liked to make up weird stories and tales, and they were never taken seriously again by the school.

They were only happy when they were in each other's arms.

-OoOoOoOoOoOoO-

It was thirty past eleven, and neither of them wanted to sleep. They were laying closely in bed discussing the same thing they had argued over since they had any notion of birthdays: Who was the older twin and who was the younger twin? Who had come first?

"Obviously I'm older Ree, can't you see that I'm the better twin?" Said Hailee with a smile on her face.

"Nope. I'm definitely older than you Lee. I'm more responsible, knowledgable, and strong. Of course, I have to be the older twin! Those are traits of the older siblings!" Said Harry, with a smile of his own. Ree from Harry and Lee from Hailee, those were the names they chose for each other. Only they knew them.

"You cannot be serious! That is total bull crap and you know it!" Hailee jammed her elbow in Harry's side that she knew wasn't bruised or injured from the brutal onslaught their uncle had given them both earlier this day, she also didn't do it hard at all, Harry still complained though.

"Ow, ow, ow, sister. You hurt me so bad." He said with a fake pain grimace in his face, he certainly knew how to fake those, "You've just proved my point sister! You have to resort to violence to argue, and that is something very immature to do," he said while pointing his finger at her, "and since obviously, the older sibling is the mature one, that can only mean that…"

He was interrupted suddenly as his sister bit his extended finger. She released him and burst out laughing. He fake pouted at his sister for rudely interrupting him, but soon was laughing along with her. There were so few instances of laughter in their life that he wasn't going to be the one to spoil the moment; he believed he had done enough harm to her already. They were still laughing hard when a little 'cling' sound interrupted them. It was the sound the old alarm clock made whenever it would hit an o'clock hour. That could only mean one thing, they were eleven now!

They both started singing at the same time, perfectly in sync with the other, "Happy Birthday to us… Happy Birthday to us… Happy Birthday Hailee and Harry… Happy Birthday to uuuuuuuusss…"

"Night, Ree…"

"Night, Lee."

They soon were fast asleep in each other's arms. They needed their rest. It was already Wednesday, July 31st, 1991. Although they were in their summer break, they still had to be up early to make breakfast for the Dursleys who had to work.

They didn't know, they couldn't possibly know, that their world was going to change drastically in just a few hours.

They could tell something was off from the moment their Aunt and Uncle showed up for breakfast. They knew it was serious when Vernon didn't go to work but instead ordered them to follow him into the study after he finished his meal, even before they could serve themselves the scaps. They had long ago lost any kind of hope of a birthday celebration, or the Dursleys hardly ever remembering the date, so that thought never even crossed their minds. They were going through the past week's chores in their minds and thinking they must've screwed up royally for them to be escorted to the study with Vernon on the front and Petunia on their backs. Dudley was long lost to the wonders of the new gaming console in the market, they were even forced to take his breakfast to one of his rooms earlier.

Vernon sat down in his chair at the front of his expensive desk. Even while sitting down he was still taller and wider than the both of them combined. Eating two small meals a day for the past almost ten years meant the two siblings were tiny for their age. Petunia stood behind her husband. There were a few chairs around the room, but they knew better to seat without permission, they stood and hung their heads low. Vernon spoke:

"You have turned eleven today."  
It wasn't a question. It was a statement. The siblings were so shocked that this was about their birthday that they were lost for words, their expressions didn't change, however.

"I have a few things I need to clear up before the events this afternoon will bring are allowed to happen," boomed Uncle Vernon. "First and foremost, you will not speak ill of any kind of treatment or behavior you have been subject to in this house. I have committed no harm to you. Do I make myself clear?" Harry could recognize the threat in his Uncle's voice. He squeezed his sister's hand, and both said at the same time, "Yes, Uncle."

I have committed no harm to you… Harry knew that this was a common lie from their Uncle, to keep pretense that they were a 'happy family'. Hailee knew this too, but the children simply could not understand how people refused to see what to them was completely obvious.

_'No harm… yeah… the dozens of scars I have, and the hundreds Ree has are absolutely no harm at all,'_ Hailee thought, with barely contained anger, her face remaining impassive.

"Good" Vernon had a twitch in his eye that was very pronounced whenever the two of them spoke in sync. It was a tiny bit of rebellion from the twins' part.

"Second. I want you to know that we do not want you to stay here, in my house, for any longer than it isn't strictly necessary. Not a second longer. I want you to… _endeavor_… to stay as far away as possible, for the longest time possible, whenever it is possible. Otherwise… " He trailed off, the threat crystal clear in his voice.

The twins really had no idea what their Uncle was talking about. They still nodded in agreement, they knew the methods their Uncle used to force them. "Yes, Uncle." They said, again in sync.

"Good," he craned his neck and looked rather apprehensively at his wife. Petunia now spoke with an edge on her voice that they'd never heard.

"Third. Your Father and your Mother." Harry squeezed his sister's hand, as he was sure she was just about to let out a huge gasp of surprise, this was certainly the weirdest conversation they'd had with the Dursleys in their entire lives. That was why it didn't need to be jeopardized whatsoever, who knew what would be their reaction to any perceived slight.

"They didn't die in a car accident. They were murdered. They weren't lazy bastards, they were much, much worse: They were... _magical_." Petunia continued. She said the word 'magical' as it was the worst insult in the language, it carried so much hate that the twins almost grimaced. Almost. Vernon couldn't help but to chip in: "Bunch of fucking freaks… what they are. Filthy unnatural freaks."

Petunia looked at her husband and nodded.

"And so are you. You are also freaks of nature. the scum of this world. _Magical_, all right…"

The scowl on her face didn't quite hide the envy clearly displayed in their Aunt's words, the edge on her voice was now easily recognizable despite the clear hatred for this supposed 'magic' she displayed.

"Finally," Aunt Petunia finished the conversation with, "I don't want you speaking about the topics discussed here today, with anybody. Absolutely. Nobody. Do you understand?"

The answer came not a second later, again with both twins speaking at the same time.

"Yes, Aunt."

"Now, get the hell out of my study!" Yelled Vernon.

The twins almost ran their way back to the kitchen. The hot air of some simmering pots and the summer sun creeping from the windows meant the room was a few degrees hotter than comfortable. Harry sat on the stool they used to reach the high parts of the kitchen, while Hailee went to open a window. She then sat on Harry's lap in the stool.

"What the hell was that?" Asked Hailee.

"What were they talking about?" Asked Harry.

"What was that about magic?"

"They seem to really hate it. Whatever 'it' is."

"They certainly expect us to leave," deduced Hailee "but where?"

"And more importantly, how soon can we leave?"

Hailee smiled at his brother, the sooner they were out of this hellhole the better, it didn't really matter where.

"How soon indeed, brother mine… how soon indeed." He put an arm around her sister and kissed her almost-black hair. The same hair he had. The dark red strands of hair they both shared and assumed came from their father since Petunia was blonde and their mother was her sister.

Hailee had it very long, almost to her calves. Despite the boys from Dudley's gang easily pulling on it, she refused to have it shorter. Harry, on the other hand, had his hair barely large enough to cover his scars in his neck and forehead. Funnily enough, they had never had had a haircut.

Hailee turned her neck and two pairs of bright green eyes were now staring at each other intensely. They stared at each other's eyes whenever possible, it was as if, when they were looking at each other that way, the sensations and feelings of the other sibling came to the surface and were easily grasped by the other. It was their private and silent way of saying, 'are you ok?'

This connection they shared was one of the reasons they were able to endure this hellish existence, and whenever they faced any problem, discomfort, or pain, the connection halved it. If they were to ever hear the saying 'A problem shared is a problem halved,' they would think it described them perfectly.

A sudden flutter interrupted their wordless mind-conversation, they turned to see a little tawny owl, perched in the window frame, its huge deep eyes fixed on Harry. When it seemed to confirm something to himself, he flew over their heads and dropped a thick envelope at their feet. It then circled them once more and was out of the house.

Shocked, Hailee went for the envelope.


	3. Flamel's Flames

**Flamel's Flames.**

The smell of coffee, bacon, and fried diced potatoes woke him up from his silk sheets and plump pillows. His crimson sleeping robes were thick and warm. As he moved to stand, he picked up his wand, and with a thought and a wave the bed was made, his hair combed and his teeth clean. He tucked his wand into his internal pocket and rushed to the bathroom seeking relief. As many things as magic can do for a very talented wizard — and especially one as old as himself — there were just some things that are just better taken care of in the normal way.

As he came out of the bathroom he remembered the date: his anniversary with his wife. He smiled fondly, all the memories of countless previous anniversaries coming to his mind. He picked up a little box, wrapped in deep-green paper with a little bronze-colored bow. Making his way to the kitchen from where such enticing smells come from, he stopped at the doorway of the large modern kitchen and stared for a few seconds at the deeply familiar figure.

"Good morning Nelly!" He called enthusiastically, moving inside the tiled floor. Casting a glance out the window, he looked at the sky outside, checking for the weather. The few visible clouds told him his plans for the evening may be possible without too much discomfort.

"Morning Nick." The woman in front of the stove answered without turning. "How did you sleep?" Her green robes reflected the sunlight coming from the window at the end of the kitchen.

"Like a rock, honey." The man smiled fondly at his wife.

The Icelandic landscape seen from the one-story house is simply mesmerizing. The green-covered hills, the huge plains surrounding the house in every direction, up north, you can barely make out the outline of a few snow-covered mountains against the horizon. A few clouds fly up high in the sky, illuminated by the bright sun. A couple of miles east of the little village of Flúðir sat the quaint little country cottage — magically enlarged inside, of course, — surrounded by a very lush garden, despite being incongruent with the harsh and cold weather, the wonders of magic made it flourish.

Innocently and smiling still, he put the little package he held onto the counter next to his wife. He hugged her from behind and with a kiss on her cheek he said:  
"Do you have any idea what day it is today, Nelly dear?" He kissed her below her ear and she leaned into the soft touch.  
"I really don't have any idea what you are talking about Nick." She answered airily, as he kept trailing his lips from her jawline to her ear. He stopped for a second to whisper closely,  
"The word 'anniversary' rings a bell?"

"Not… really…" she says with a frown. Suddenly, a look of understanding flashes across the face of Perenelle Flamel. "Nick! You're thinking in Julian again!" Looking back to the bewildered face of his husband she couldn't help it, she burst out laughing.  
Nick blinked a couple times in bewilderment and looked at her sheepishly, rubbing her arms with his hands. "Well, after one thousand five hundred years using the Julian calendar, its kind of difficult to not think in Julian dates for all the important ones."  
She laughed again, and with a smile and a look filled with mirth, she told her husband. "Dear, you really are sweet, don't get me wrong; but for a three-thousand-year-old genius, you can sometimes be really dumb."  
"Hey! Any chance I get to give my wife another present is a chance I'm going to take." His smile betrayed his defense, and they both knew it.  
"It also means that you now must get me another present for our _real _ anniversary."  
"Don't be so sure, Nelly." He gave her a smug little smile, "This gift might still be worth after all."

Nelly just smiled and accepted the little package. Pulling her wand from her robes and waving it over the frying food, she accepted the little package. She turned around in her husband's embrace and smiled at the color of the wrapping paper, her favorite shade of green adorned with leaf patterns. She tore into the wrapping paper like a giddy child at Christmas, and after removing it completely, she opened the lid of the little jewelry box revealing two bronze-colored earrings, each with a tiny ruby in the center of their circular shape.

"You found them!" The blindingly bright smile she gave Nick was entirely worth the incredible effort that went into locating her long lost earrings.

"It took me almost six hundred years, but I did. I finally have them back, and I can gift them to you again." Nick was saying as tears were filling in the corners of Nelly's eyes, and doing the utmost to not let his own fall. "I still remember the first time I saw you wearing them… the horrible clothes you were wearing…" he continued, looking directly at his lover's eyes as the tears finally started to flow from her now swollen eyelids, "…the fact that those rags were better than what I had, and still… you were beautiful." He closed his eyes as he joined their foreheads, embracing her face with his hands and wiping her tears away, smiling his own away.

"I've said it before and I'll say it again. I love you, Nelly."  
After a few seconds, Nelly finally regained the ability to speak as he backed away from her. "I love you, Nick." She took her wand and with a simple flick, she was wearing her long-lost heirlooms again for the first time in almost a millennium. "Thank you very much for returning these to me, dear. I so very much want to hear the story of how you managed to find them. But before any of that," she rose on her tiptoes to give her husband a quick kiss, "we need to have breakfast. The potatoes are done and the bacon is getting cold."

Nick nodded and made his way to the table as his wife busied herself serving both her plates. As he passed, he picked up both of their cups of coffee and set them on the table.

"And Nick," she turned to face him, "my clothes weren't that bad!"  
"Oh, yes! Yes, they were!" Laughed Nick, taking a sip of his coffee. "In fact, they were so bad, I think that was the reason I noticed you in the first place!" The smile never left his face. She gave him her patented 'you're-making-a-fool-of-yourself' glare and cleared her throat.  
"So I guess someone doesn't want their breakfast…" Nick immediately stopped laughing, "… I'll just have to throw it out!"

"Okay, okay!" Cried Nick in surrender, "I take it back honey, now can you give me my food? Please?"

"Fine. But only because you gave me such a thoughtful gift for our Not-Anniversary."

"Now that's more like it."

They finally sat down and ate their food amidst playful conversation and cheerful banter. The Icelandic breakfast did its job filling them with the joy of a full stomach. After they finished their meal, Nick retired to his study.

It was still relatively early in the morning, and the deep green plains surrounding the old property contrasted beautifully with the white clouds covering the entire sky. The light of this frosty morning shone through the window of the study. Sitting on his desk, Nicholas Flamel, The Immortal Alchemist, was startled away from his gizmos and artifacts by the sudden flash of light a couple of inches over his head.

He knew what this meant, he reluctantly opened the wards around his property, granting access to one of his old friends, someone who he respected a great deal, someone who he had even been granted the great honor of witnessing the birth of. Several seconds later, that same someone flashed in a small ball of orange flames into the room.

"Hello, Fawkes. How've you been, old pal?" He told the magnificent firebird, as the orange phoenix settled carefully on top of his desk, without disturbing so much as a tiny piece of paper.

Nicholas reached with his hand and lovingly ruffled the feathers of his fellow immortal, by which Fawkes reciprocated with a joyous and magically soothing trill, just as he brought his golden beak to meet his human friend's hand.

"Now, what is that whiskered bastard having you deliver to me?" He asked his old friend before grabbing the parchment that Fawkes had brought with him. You could hear the reproach in Nick's voice; he never approved of his winged friend's choice of companion, and he'd let the firebird know it. Many times.

Fawkes in turn just stood a bit taller and steeled a glare towards his friend, with the clear message: _My choices are my own._

The staring contest went on for a few seconds and finally, Nick huffed and reached for the missive attached to Fawkes's left leg.

The moment he touched the letter, he felt as though whatever it was written in it would be a great idea. He surely needed to follow whatever instruction was on the inside. Surely. Fawkes trilled again; this time though, it was a sound of warning.

Nick had finished unfolding the inner parchment, and he read it silently. When he finished reading, he had a very deep scowl on his face. He took out his wand and after a second of concentration, the pressing sensation to follow every command the letter had delivered was finally gone. A questioning trill from the firebird still posed on his desk brought him out of his reverie. He dropped the letter on the desk and responded to the phoenix's question.

"What?" He asked. "You really think, after all this time I wouldn't have something to detect and counter compulsion charms?"  
Fawkes trilled in mild outrage and raised his steely glare at Nick again.  
"Yes, yes. I'm sorry, it's not your fault we don't see each other that much." The glare didn't falter. "And yes, I'm not angry at you, I'm angry at your _bonded_. Do you want to know what Albus _fucking_ Dumbledore wants from me? I'll tell you what he wants. He wants to borrow my STONE!"

Fawkes had the decency to stop his glare and trill in a sigh-reminiscent manner.

"MY STONE! Can you believe that!?" Nick was getting heated now, "Supposedly, he wants it because of whispers of stealing it have begun in those blasted isles." Nick glare went from the parchment to Fawkes and back. "He wants to help me _'secure'_ it."

The feathered one's gaze remained steely, but there was some understanding layered in his flaming black eyes. He knew that his old friend's immortality was no like his own, he didn't depend on an object to keep himself alive, as that was the nature of his existence. Still, it would not do to have his old friend die just for the machinations of his bonded.

Fawkes trilled in acquiescence and Nick heaved a long sigh. Nick raised his wand and a bright light sped form the end of it and through the wall, deeper into the house.

"I need Nelly here to think of something." He said as he rubbed the bridge of his nose. "But let me tell you something Fawkes, the sun will implode before I give _Dumb_-bledore, my stone. Seriously, who does he take me for?"

The two immortals waited a bit for Nelly to come to the study, she was wearing what clearly were gardening clothes, Nick figured she must have been in the garden.

"What's this I hear about a _Dumb-dumb _and our stone? Nick?" In response, Nick handed his wife the letter Fawkes had brought. She read the missive quickly and silently. When she finished she directed a bewildered questioning look over to Fawkes.  
"Is he for real? Seriously? He wants to help safeguard the integrity of our stone?" She asked in rapid succession. Fawkes, still sitting on the office desk, trilled in a somewhat half-hearted affirmative.  
"What could possibly make him think we would be willing to part with it? Especially since we know that the only place he would be able to put it is in Hogwarts?" now she turned her focus to her husband, who had been rubbing his eyes nonstop for the few minutes she took to read the letter.

"Would you believe me if I told you that he put strong compulsion charms in the parchment?" He actually managed to smile a little. "Because he did."

Nelly laughed at that. She could not understand Dumbledore's thought process, which made her pause in her reasoning and analysis of this situation. She stayed pensive for some time, ruminating over the implications of Dumbledore's 'request'. Nick just kept an eye on the rest of the things in his desk and engaged in a more sedated conversation with his phoenix friend. He knew to wait for Nelly's assessment.

"At last, you managed to learn how to land on things without your stupidly strong wings blowing everything away, huh, Fawkes." He was saying to his friend, with a smile on his face. "Took you long enough, only hundreds of years." The mirth was clear in his light, teasing tone.  
The ancient avian, not to be outdone, spread his massive wingspan, and without taking his eyes off his friend's, flapped with two pointed flutters, and lifted a few inches off the surface of the desk. No object remained unperturbed after the winds swept by it, and Fawkes descended once again to what was now a clear, empty desk.  
"Thank you. Very much." Nick deadpanned. All traces of laughter gone from his face. Now it was the firebird's turn to look amused.

Finally, the audibly pacing stopped and Nelly turned to look to her husband and her friend, the pensive look still on her face.  
"I've given it some preliminary thought, and I have reached a number of conclusions. Before I reveal them though, I want to run some things by you two." She raised a hand and extended one finger. "First and foremost, Dumbledore is desperate for something, or at the very least is waiting for something to happen."

She paced a few more times back and forth while Nick and Fawkes took in what she said. When she turned back to Fawkes and he trilled an affirmative, she spoke again.  
"Secondly, this year, the Potter Twins come back to the British Wizarding World, don't they?"

"Yes, honey, they will have turned eleven..." Nick straightened in his seat to look at the fallen calendar, "Ha! Funnily enough, our anniversary in the Julian calendar is the same date as their birthdays."

"So, that in turn, means that they are — almost certainly — whatever Dumbledore is waiting for."

"But why would that be the case Nelly? Dumbledore himself hid the Twins in wherever-the-hell they are, so why would he wait for them? And what does that have to do with our stone, at all?"

"To answer your first two questions, it probably means just that. The Twins returning to a more public arena of scrutiny is probably a big enough of an event for Dumbledore to put whatever plan he has in mind in motion." She was now almost grimacing thinking of the implications of that man's 'plans'. "And to answer your third question," she now turned to Fawkes. "Am I wrong in assuming the stone has something to do with his 'plan'?"

Fawkes trilled a sigh, or something close to it, and bobbed his head in confirmation.

"So! There you have it." Nelly pronounced. "Dumbledore is planning something; that something has to do with the stone, and probably, with the Potter Twins."

"Almost definitely, although it really isn't very clear why Dumbledore would need to wait for the Twins, is it?" Nick agreed. "He must have access to them at any moment, so it isn't as if he couldn't interact with them. I believe there is something there that we're missing."

"I can see that, yes." Nelly continued. "Still, we've got two options really, the first would be to deny Dumbledore's insane request and simply not give him anything. We could explain nothing to him and we would still have our privacy. Option number two would be to give Dumbledore something that can fool him into thinking he has convinced us, it will put us back on the map; somewhat, and to a few people, but on the map nonetheless. I believe this would be more advantageous in the long run."

"Nelly... are you saying what I think you're saying?" Nick asked, intrigued.

"Yes, Nick. I believe I am saying that this period of isolation has come to an end." Nelly answered Nick's question with an honest and excited tone.

"Finally!" Nick celebrated. "I agree wholeheartedly, I want to be in the thick of things once again! So? I know how you think and I think that I know, what is your game plan?"

"The Potter Twins," Nelly answered gravely. "It is almost too obvious that they are going to be an integral part of the future of wizarding society. I think that using this opportunity Dumbledore has provided us, we may be able to keep an eye on them. If his plan really entails the Twins, then we can give him something instead of the stone to monitor their movements and actions; we can even judge them against their peers and even ascertain if they would benefit for an apprenticeship from us-"

"Seriously!?" Nick interrupted. "You are willing to take another apprentice? Even after how the last one ended?" He seemed a bit baffled at his wife's intention with the Twins.

"Yes, Nicolas. I am considering taking one or both of them as apprentices IF they are worthy." Nelly grimaced a bit before saying, "Besides, that 'last one' that you speak, was also _your _apprentice. Now if you'll let me continue-"

"Carry on, my love." Nick interrupted with a smile. Again. Nelly glared at him, took out her wand, and with a wave silenced her husband. Then, she turned to Fawkes, who had been watching the interchange with amusement, and continued her explanation. Nick pouted at her.

"We could use this opportunity and send some kind of monitoring device to that castle, that way it would be an excellent excuse to come back to the public eye." Fawkes bobbed his head at her. "That would mean that we are going with option number two, and would put us in a narrow time crunch, as I'm guessing Dumbledore would like an answer before the day ends, and the stone before this weekend, as any later would probably make him suspicious. That leaves me with the task of coming up with a suitable replacement for the stone that can fool Dumbledore into thinking that it's real, and can accomplish whatever it is that I want it to do outside of that; all of it in less than four days time."

At this point, Nick had pulled out his wand and was in the middle of dispelling the Mongolian-based spell of Quietness. At hearing the time constraints his wife had put to them both, he finished battling with the spell and said,  
"Wait! Nelly, we could probably get away with giving him the stone on Sunday. I already had plans for today's afternoon, I was planning on treating you somewhere nice, you know, for our not-anniversary."

"Is that so, Nick?" Nelly raised an eyebrow at her husband.

"Yes!" He confirmed with a grin. "I had it all planned, and I don't want to ruin it. Will you do me the honor of coming to our non-anniversary celebration?"

"Fine. I will." She sighed. "It's not as if I have something better to do."

"Wonderful! We'll have so much fun, and I bet you can't even guess where we're going, oh, I've been planning this for months! And I... "

Nelly just shook her head while listening to the ramblings of her husband that continued as he stood, paced a few seconds and left his office in a hurry. A small smile of satisfaction playing on her lips. Her eyes shining with a love so unfathomably deep, so firmly held onto through the centuries, it made even the bird of fire warm with its expression.

So it was, that the youngest immortal in the room put his little head in between his right wing, determined to catch a few hours of sleep, and staying in his friends' home until they had their package ready for the white-one. He could do with a short reprieve of that castle.


End file.
